


Kin and Crew

by basketcase_y



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, set in early season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcase_y/pseuds/basketcase_y
Summary: In which an Avatar of the Vast decides to at least remove Michael Crew from under the ground, be he dead or alive.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Kin and Crew

You have not served The Falling Titan long. Time is relative, of course, and you have served long enough to meet some of the Fairchilds. You are not one of them, but you might be, later.

They mentioned another avatar a few times, but when you asked when you would meet him, one laughed and shook her head. “He met with the Archivist, was attacked by a Hunter after him,” she said, “Poor bastard got buried in 2016.”

You nearly shuddered at the pure wrongness of the idea, one of your ilk under the ground. It was likely that he had already been lost, for it had been two years, but the thought nagged at you. While you were young and didn’t have the same pride the Fairchilds did, it also galled you. What right did a Hunter have to do that? (What right could they have to do it to you?)

So, you began digging. You searched for flats under the name Michael Crew and found one in London, that had been given to a new renter when the old one failed to pay and disappeared. You left the Eiffel Tower (such an easy place to feed your patron, with how many people were always there) and found the address. The neighbors couldn’t remember him, and the current tenent didn’t know him.

Eventually, you went to see the Archivist. It was his fault, after all. He should at least know where Crew was buried.

The Magnus Institute is an old place, and the floors creak as you walk to the receptionist, the plate on her desk reading Rosie. 

“Hello,” you say, for it is best to be polite to those who have things you need, “I need to speak to the Archivist.”

“Can I have a reason?” she asks, typing something on her computer without looking at you. It grates, a bit, but you are here to ask a favor of those under the Watcher. It would not do to injure or frighten their receptionist too badly.

“Work,” is all you say, allowing a little bit of vertigo to be passed to her. She pales a bit, hands slowing on the keyboard. Interesting. She has some experience with your kind after all. Though that may also be due to the air being laden with the Forsaken’s power.

“He’ll probably be in his office,” it seems she has some sense. You nod along with her instructions and follow them to an office. You set your hand on a door and hurriedly take it back, recognizing it almost too late as from one of the Twisting Deceit. Since when is it allied with the Watcher?

The Distortion’s echoing laughter bounces around you and you grimace. Of course it’s the Distortion, the crazed thing changed completely a while back. Took on a new personality. This iteration must like the Archivist or someone under the Watcher enough to ignore it’s stare. 

Or it had another reason to be here, and you may interfere with it. You don’t want to fight it, not somewhere so enclosed and so near doors it can use. You think you can win, but it would be a pain and pointless distraction.

“The Archivist is recording,” the Distortion says, door opening with a creak that seems too drawn out for the simple action, “I can’t allow you in.”

“Fine,” you say, walking to a chair nearby but keeping your eyes on the Distortion. You don’t want to risk it catching you as you look away, as you need to see it to fight it. “I’ll wait over here for him to finish.”

It laughs again, “How will you know when he’s finished?”

You lean back into the chair, getting comfortable, “The Watcher has its ways. I’ll know.” It doesn’t seem to want to fight now, and moves back through its door. 

It can’t be a minute before a woman walks in, carrying some paperwork. She does a double take at the sight of you waiting on the couch, shifting to a more ready stance and reaching for a weapon in an instant. You attempt a smile, which you haven’t done in a while, and you can tell you got it wrong by the slight widening of her eyes. 

“Do you know when I’ll be able to talk to the Archivist?” you ask, “The Distortion warned me off from entering while he’s recording, and I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

Her body language shifts, surprised to defensive, “What do you want?” she says, more a threat than a question.

“Touchy,” you say, just to mess with her a bit. She seems so uptight. “I just need to ask him some questions about a colleague of mine. Don’t want any trouble.” 

“He’ll be done when he’s done,” she says, “You can wait here until he comes out of the office.” With that she sets her paperwork down at the nearby table, clearly planning to keep an eye on you.

You settle in to wait, leaning your head against the back of the chair. You should really have brought a book or something, but you had thought the Archivist would be available. Presumptuous, it retrospect, but nothing for it now.

The woman gets through a few of her papers and a tape recorder you didn’t see click on clicks off on its own. This place really is the Watcher’s stronghold, though a quick glance wouldn’t reveal the old place to be a seat of power.

After a few more papers the door creaks open. Not like the Distortion’s, but a normal door sound. “Basira? Have you seen--oh,” the Archivists demeanor completely changes, becoming defensive as soon as he spots you. “Why are you here?”

To the point. You appreciate that. As a tape recorder begins running in the background, you stand up and walk over. “I’m not here for a fight.” you say, when he tenses up as you draw near. You keep your posture relaxed and your hands in sight to try and placate the nervous Archivist. That is somewhat suspicious: should he not be secure in his own center of power? Does it have to do with the slight fog of the Forsaken hanging around the building?

Whatever, not your business.

“Then what do you want?” Oh, you’ve taken too long to continue speaking. You really do need to be among humans more if your conversational skills have decayed this much.

“Just a location. Where did the Hunter bury my kinsman? Crew, I mean,” you stop, making steady eye contact as another show of deference that itches, a bit. It’s necessary, you remind yourself, it’ll be over soon. Perhaps you’ll be taken more seriously when you retrieve one thought dead, and won’t have to bother with this anymore. One can only hope.

The Archivist pauses, seemingly taken aback. He glances at the woman and she sighs. “I believe I know the dumping ground--” you look to her and listen, intent on memorizing the directions she gives. You nod once, and turn around to leave.

“My thanks,” you call over your shoulder, “I’ll take my leave now.”

The Archivist splutters a bit. “You’re welcome, I guess?”

You walk through the halls, nodding at the door that should not be there and to the receptionist. “Have a pleasant day.”

When you get outside, you take a deep breath. It feels good to be out of that building, and there is rain on the wind. Delightful.

You follow the woman’s instructions, and are pleased to find yourself at a forest far away from the general public. The rain has begun to fall, and the ground is soft and easy to shovel. You breathe in deeply, feeling your connection to your god and attempt to sense where it’s influence is strongest, even under the ground. 

While it may be a trick of the senses, one area feels more strongly than anything else. You plant your shovel in the ground, hope that you won’t exhume a decaying corpse, and begin to dig.

**Author's Note:**

> Mike Crew deserved better squad unite!  
> On a serious note, this came from me wanting better for Mike and that idea not leaving me alone. While I left it open-ended, I'd like to think Crew was saved.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
